Movements of the Earth
by ATILT
Summary: An imagining continuing from EliseShaw's A Coming of Age, from Edward's return from his rebellious years on through the continued development of the Cullen family. Aiming to include Rosalie/Emmett addition to the Cullen clan. Canon, Pre-Twilight.
1. 1: Homecoming

**Being the dedicated fanfiction reader that I am, I always want to see stories drawn to their natural conclusion. After having avidly read EliseShaw's _No Longer Alone_ and _A Coming of Age_, I was sad to see no new updates for the past year, and began imagining the end of the story that she had begun to create. For those of you unfamiliar with EliseShaw's text, if you are interested in pre-Twilight, canon stories about the creation of the Cullen family, I would strongly suggest her moving text and amazing introspection into the characters, Carlisle and Edward in particular. It can be found on her blog page, accessible on her fanfiction page at: .net/u/1775901/EliseShaw**

**The coming chapters in this story I have titled _Movements of the Earth_ pick up where that story leaves off at Chapter 40: Ima, with Edward's return after his rebellious years. They are entirely my own imaginings, based on EliseShaw's characters and Stephanie Meyer's original stories. I hope to continue this story at least through the addition of Rosalie and Emmett into the Cullen family, and am simultaneously writing a companion piece regarding Rosalie's transition and perspective prior to the change.**

**As always, I would love to hear your thoughts on this story and any of your agreements/disagreements to how the characters evolve. Enjoy!**

_Chapter 1: Homecoming_

_January, 1931_

_Edward_

I paced nervously through the living room, waiting for the voices absent in my head since I had run away from the life and family they had created. I knew they had said they would accept me back, but did I even deserve their forgiveness? Their love? Part of me wanted to bolt back out the open window through which I had climbed in their beautiful Rochester house, and try to drown the shame I felt at betraying the pure goodness of my creator. If they accepted me, I would strive to be the son they believed me to be. To atone for the horror of the crimes I had committed.

_But why would they accept you back?_ A voice in my head intruded. _What have you done that they would accept you when you betrayed their trust?_

My stomach twisted at the thought of their rejection. It was true. There was no reason for them to want me as part of the family again after I had clearly displayed my contempt for their way of life. I would accept whatever they said. When I said my piece, I would leave, and try to live the moral life on my own, resisting the temptation of human blood. I saw an image of myself running through the Canadian wilderness alone, never sharing another hunt with the two individuals I loved, and pain shot through the place where my heart used to beat.

Yes, that is what I will do, I affirmed fiercely to myself. I cannot return to the life of the avenger, for it only ended in blood and despair.

As I was caught up in these thought, steeling myself for their rejection, a mental voice emerged that though I had not heard in years, I would have known even amidst the loudest city of voices.

Carlisle.

_It's most likely nothing to worry about._My creator comforted his wife, gently dismissing her fears.

_You're right, I suppose_ Esme said to Carlisle as they drove their car back home. A vision of a beautiful young woman glaring at her in disgust faded as Carlisle gently squeezed her hand.  
>They were coming. So close I could almost make out their voices in the raging snowstorm, my stomach twisted again. I forced myself to stop pacing and sit on the couch, my stillness belying the war going on in my head as I awaited what felt like the final judgment. To calm myself, I listened to their conversation.<p>

_We'll be more cautious around her in the future_, Carlisle smiled at Esme, trying to reassure her that there was no reason to fear. I noted that he had many similar experiences that had evaporated with time. Still, the feeling that they might need to leave Rochester soon echoed in his mind.

_But in any case_ he continued, dismissing the case in his mind, _I wouldn't let it spoil your evening._His smile widened as he envisioned that evening. Out of habit, I grimaced at the mental images he conjured of slipping the red dress she wore from her shoulders.

_The taste of punch wasn't nearly as good as I remember as a girl_Esme responded dryly, missing Carlisle's innuendo as her stomach protested the human drink.

"Your expression was priceless! Though I can't understand why anyone would ever wish to ingest something that was colored such a shocking shade of pink" Carlisle said teasingly, his voice coming through more clearly with the engine off. A new level of panic arose as I realized they had finally reached the house.

As Esme leaned in, thoughts of tickling him interrupted by the pleasure of his kiss, a new fear entered my mind. Would the first time I had seen my father and mother in four years be in a moment of passion?

"Let's go inside" Esme whispered to him as they made their way out of the car.

Carlisle glanced at the house in anticipation, noting the open window I had used as my entry point. "Perhaps it was a poor idea to leave a window open. There may be half a foot of snow in your kitchen by now."

Esme's stomach twisted again as she remembered her baking endeavors. She slid the key into the lock of the door, opening it as she tried to block out the potent scent in her memory. "Better then the awful smell of those pies. I may never be able to look at a blueberry the same way after—"

Her words cut off as both she and Carlisle smelled my scent for the first time. Shock registered in their parallel thoughts as they analyzed my smell, registering that its strength meant I was still in the vicinity. Esme moaned quietly as I felt both of their hopes rise, though tempered by disbelief. They gazed at each other, and I saw through both of their eyes, the relief and hope permeating their senses. Their mental voices spoke in accord.

_Edward_

I rose quietly, listening to their hesitant movements as they entered the house and moved toward the increasing intensity of my scent. I rose slowly, shifting from foot to foot as I stared down, willing myself to keep control of the rising intensity of emotions coursing through me. Desperation, yearning, anxiety, and just a sliver of hope. No, I would not allow myself hope.

I heard them come closer, but kept my eyes on my feet. A half second passed with complete silence, as I ran through the multitudes of conversations I had had in my mind's eye in anticipation of this single moment. I steeled myself, preparing the speech I had painstakingly crafted in my travels.

I raised my eyes, "Mother, Father, I—" the speech died on my lips as Esme rushed to me, enveloping me in a hug as she sobbed tearlessly. Surprised at the intensity of her relief and love, I wrapped my arms around her small form, holding desperately to not only my mother, but also to the hope I dared not indulge in, that they would take me back.

"Edward, Edward," she sobbed into my chest. I hugged her back for a second more before I carefully detached myself. I would need to say my part, and give them the option of whether or not to take me back.

Esme looked up at me, fear and vulnerability flicked through her eyes. Her breath caught in her through as she thought _Is he going to leave again?_ She stepped back from my still form.  
>I tore my eyes away from her, pain coursing through me at the thought of leaving this gentle woman again. I glanced away, composing my features as I fortified myself for the final moment that approached. I <em>would<em>say my piece before I collapsed into the sobbing boy I felt certain would take over at any moment.

Even so, weakness overrode me. I could not look into my father's eyes.

"Mother, Father. I know that over the past four years , and even before, I have given you little reason to accept me. My behavior has been abhorrent as I rejected everything you stand for, morality, perseverance, and the strongest kind of internal strength. I have done terrible things, committed crimes for which no one should receive forgiveness or clemency. While I cannot regret taking the lives of some of those I murdered," I thought with rage of the terrible thoughts of the killers I had hunted, but continued "I realized over time that there is no being on earth that can make these judgments in clear conscience and with absolute moral authority on their side."

I closed my eyes, taking in a deep breath. The moment of truth. "I know that I can never gain absolution, and have sacrificed the place in your hearts for the despair that was my due after years of subsuming myself in the blood of others. Still, I had to come back and beg your forgiveness. With every fiber of my being, I am ashamed of my actions, of playing false on your faith in me and so carelessly throwing away the warmth and love of your home. I will not ask you to take me back, as I know that I can never earn your love again," _as desperately as my heart may desire it,_I added silently to myself. "But I did want to try to atone in some measure, to the violation of your trust, and to let you know that I will, for the rest of my existence, avoid the temptation to murder humans, and try to live the life you have created."

My forced composure crumbled as sobs I had tried to contain rose in my throat and my eyes finally met my father's. He was listening intently to my words, a fierce edge to his thoughts that I couldn't quite identify and was somewhat scared to try. I spoke my next words directly to him, begging him as my body shook.  
>"Will you forgive me?"<p>

His eyes burned golden as he swiftly crossed the room and wrapped me in a hug.  
>"There is nothing to forgive," he choked back, his body shaking with me as I cried tearlessly into his shoulder, wrapped in a tight embrace. It was not anger or resentment that I read in his thoughts but wordless relief and fierce love. I realized he was shaking too, releasing the wound of despair that our long separation had wrought. It felt unlike any emotion I had experienced in the past four years. It felt safe.<p>

...

In the weeks since I had returned, I spent all my free time trying to make amends, in some way trying to prove that I deserved the warm, open arms with which Carlisle and Esme received me. As soon they had recovered their shock of seeing me again, they immediately employed me in activities, in unison fearful that I would take off at the slightest provocation.

Carefully avoiding the topic of my time away, Esme threw herself into a redecoration of the entire stylish house in which they were staying. Even my untrained eye could detect the glorious lines of symmetry and artistic bay windows that Frank Lloyd Wright had so carefully designed. I particularly enjoyed Esme's thrill every time the house gave her new architectural design ideas that caused her to drop whatever activity was occupying her mind and rush to her sketch table, picturing a new dining room set or high angled ceiling.

Aside from the home, I became her main occupation. While I would have been happy to just sit and observe, reading one of Carlisle's new medical journals or paging mindlessly through the numbing descriptions of Rochester's elite, I was instead conscripted into moving around the furniture endlessly, matching a specific shade of beige to one of three shades of green that would have been indistinguishable to the human eye, and placing new, carefully selected decorative pillows on the spotlessly clean couches.

Every so often I would notice a break in her composure, a longing glance at the impeccable grand piano. They had bought it for me in the hope that I would again one day play its untouched keys. I could not bring myself back to that reminder of my former life, however. I resolved that I would master myself before I allowed the selfish pleasure and escape I received in its keys. A mastery that was, so far, eluding me in my relationship with my father.

A perfect balance to his wife, Carlisle approached me in a very different manner. He called his employer and asked two weeks off of work with the excuse that he needed to take Esme on a spontaneous vacation. When I gently joked that he might want to take the time, his thoughts suddenly became stricken, fearful that I was looking for a way to leave again, until I quickly explained that I jesting. He remained politely entertained at Esme's efforts but mostly stayed silent, preferring to observe from a corner as his wife swirled around him, pulling me with her. I knew he was trying to allow me to decide for myself whether I should be staying, whether it was the right move for me, but was not ready to believe he would forgive me so easily when I could not forgive myself. I, meanwhile, avoided direct eye contact, but paid close attention to his every thought for notice of his feelings.

Since the first night's display of emotion, he seemed almost clinically detached from the emotion in the house. He controlled his thoughts by meditating on new surgical procedures, but every so often, when he glanced up at Esme engaging me in yet another of her endless tasks, I caught him silently praying that I wouldn't leave again, pain and fear edging his thoughts. He yearned to have his son back, that this time I would stay for good. Still, I no concept on how I should approach him, how I could begin to atone for my actions to not only regain the bond we once shared that was perhaps was gone forever, but also to become the son he wanted me to be.

It wasn't until thee weeks after my homecoming that I had truly understood the effect that my departure had wrought on Carlisle. He had resumed work and gently suggested that we go hunting after returning from his shift. Esme and I had been only two days earlier, but I saw in his eyes that he wanted some time alone with me. After sharing a meaningful look with Carlisle, Esme claimed that she had to work on a portfolio for one of the advanced architectural design classes she was taking and thus stay in for the night.

We drove through the night to a forest area less than 20 minutes outside of Rochester. Parking on the side of the road, I sped through the purple-toned velvet night with Carlisle trailing just behind me. I crossed paths of his and Esme's scent, and heard the quickened heartbeats of tiny animals trembling with fear as they recognized our predatory nature. In the silence I quickly found a herd of deer and adjusted my path to the Northwest, quickly felling a large male before they knew we were upon them. As we finished our meal, I waited for Carlisle to make the first move, knowing he was agonizing over the right words to start our conversation. He had carefully shielded his thoughts on the drive and in advance of the hunt, taking comfort in just being in my presence. He gazed at me, memorizing every line and motion.

As I listened to the tenor of his thoughts, I began to see that my time away had deeply affected him. Wrapped up as I was on my own shame, my need to somehow make up my absence to him, I had not taken into account the affect that my departure had on Carlisle, me being his first creation and one that had significantly changed him. As I destroyed my sense of self, hunting killers in the night, Carlisle had struggled with himself, as he continued to struggle now.

"Son..." he started, almost desperately, stopping before he began. With those words, his entire emotional state was laid bare for me. I gasped with the agony and sorrow I felt pouring off of him, echoing my own internal misery. I was resopnsible for the pensive man he had become, the crisis of faith in his world and himself that had overtaken him. I had profoundly shaken Carlisle's belief in his actions. He questioned whether he should have turned me, forcing me into a constantly cycle of denial or, if I did not deny, placed me into the role of a god, deciding who should live and who should die. Most disturbingly, I had caused him to question his own sense of right and wrong, whether expectations for living his 'vegetarian' lifestyle were too high for me or any other of our kind.

I fell to my knees, absorbing the tumultuous thoughts as they compounded my own insecurities. He quickly tried to cover up his emotions, but it was too late. I understood only a taste of how deeply I had hurt him, how terrified he was of my leaving again, how much he blamed himself for it.

I started to shake, his thoughts replaying themselves in my mind. Clutching my chest my shoulders shook, crying for his pain as well as for my own.

"Carlisle..." I sobbed, rocking back and forth against the ache as it emerged in my voice "I'm so, so sorry." Those words, the only ones I could utter, did not even begin to express the depth of my emotion, but somehow this compassionate, loving man who had chosen me understood and instantly accepted my apology. In a fraction of a second his arms were around me. His mind and body shook too, wishing they could alleviate my tormeent, hoping for just a few more minutes of this, of us together again. For the second time in a month, I had become a lost child, sobbing in the arms of a man so much better than myself.

As my shaking subsided, I felt his emotions shift, from sharing in my grief and wishing there was something, anything he could do to prove to me my own worth, to slowly, painfully, beginning to prepare and mourn for losing me again. That thought brought me up short. He was waiting, looking for me to leave. Did he already want me gone so soon? I pulled away, looking up at him, uncertainty and fear dominating my thoughts as I realized that he might not want me back.

"Of course I understand if you want me to leave," my still heart throbbing at the idea of leaving two people so dear to me.

Unable to speak from emotion Carlisle expressed through his thoughts, _Of course I don't want you to leave...son._ His simple utterance almost undid me again. I clutched at his words for hope but only found despair in his thoughts. _But I understand if you have to go. I know that the life we choose is not an easy one, and perhaps one that goes against our very inclinations. I only want what is best for you._

Finally grasping that he was not forcing me to leave but rather that he thought I would leave again of my own accord to pursue the life that I so recently had held.

"So your fear is not of having a murderous, soulless demon in your house, but that I will leave voluntarily?" I said, disbelief coloring my words.

_You are far from being a demon, my son._ He thought back at me fiercely. _And my opinions on your soul remain unchanged. But yes, I will understand if you choose to leave us for a different life._

"Carlisle, father," He looked up suddenly, joy radiating though him as he reveled in the word. "I don't want to leave. You and Esme are my family. While I understand if what I have done disgraced you, I will not leave unless you ask me to go. You would be entirely in your rights to do so in light of my recent actions, but I hope," I paused, looking into his face, intent on my every word, "I hope very much that you will allow me to stay."

His face burst into a smile, hope shining through his pure, genuine mind as he dared to allow himself to consider that I was here to stay.

"Yes,I'll stay" I answered his unspoken question tentatively, adding quickly, "Only if you want me, naturally. Please know that if you do not choose to take me back, I will feel you entirely justified. I do not want you to acquire the weight of sins I have burdened on myself or have to face the terror of the life that I chose. No matter how earnestly I wish I could repair my actions of the last few years, I can never truly repent." I wanted to convey just how great my shame was, the terror that I had become.

I read him absorbing the distress in my face and quickly composed a mask over my emotions. I would not unduly influence him, playing on his compassion and taking me in out of pity for my state of mind. It was time I faced the consequences of my actions, no matter if they tore me from the very place I could finally learn to heal. I held my unnecessary breath, the decision hanging like an axe over my head, sentencing me to renewal or despair.

Instead, I registered a nearly imperceptible change in his face that I couldn't quite identify. He placed his hands on my shoulders, his unreadable expression burning through his golden eyes. Fervently, he said "Then stay. _Please_stay. No matter what you do or have done, you will always be my son. There is no action that you could do that would cause me to want you any less than with whole self. You belong with us, and there you will stay."

Then I recognized the expression. It was not anger or contempt. No. It was _pride_. Somehow this benevolent leader, my creator, the only father I had, examined the contempt I held for myself, the terrible actions I had committed, the rejection of every lesson he had ever taught me, and was proud that I was willing to stand up to my actions.

"Come," he said, getting to his feet and holding out a hand. "Let's go home. Together."

As I examined his outstretched hand, I finally understood. There really was nothing to forgive, despite the fact that I would try to make up for my actions for the rest of my existence. With him, I was home. And there was no other place that I could be.

In the moonlight I took his hand, swiftly getting to my feet. With my father at my side, I ran back to the life I would create. I would prove that I was deserving of his pride. My life would begin anew.


	2. 2: Recovery

**Hey all,**

**Thanks for the encouraging words that a few of you have posted! It's always good to know there is support out there in the fanfiction world. I am also looking for a good beta, preferably someone with a strong grammar background and pretty good knowledge about the Twilight world! If you are interested, feel free to leave a message and I'll contact you directly.**

**Thanks and enjoy, and as always, leave comments!**

_Chapter 2: Recovery__  
><em>  
><em>June 1931<em>

_Edward_

The next few months seemed to speed by in a haze of contentment at my regained life. While it was a struggle to contain the blood lust that had come so naturally during my years away, Carlisle and Esme supported me every step of the way, taking me hunting more often than necessary to ensure I was sated. I felt every bit the newborn, being nurtured by attentive parents to full health and, to my dismay, sanity.

I slowly began going into Rochester to do errands with Esme after she and Carlisle spread the news that her absent brother had finally returned. In these short forays through town, I experienced life again in a way that I had not when consumed by the hunt, taking enjoyment in orchestral performances and walks with Esme along the banks of the Genessee River on cloudy days. In the process, however, I also bared my mind to the infuriating sting of inaction in the face of depravity. Though I had made a pact with myself that I would no longer allow myself to prey on the evil-doers of the world, I ached with longing every time I heard their vicious thoughts. Wife-beaters, rapists, murderers, I craved their deaths. The underworld of Rochester was active and thrumming with corrupt low-lives. Their blood I could resist, but their thoughts tormented me.

Esme suggested I stay at home while I recovered and gained control, not wanting to lead me into the temptation she remembered so well as a newborn. But it was Carlisle, who's pride and faith in my restraint knew no bounds, that encouraged me to take frequent trips and gain full understanding of my abilities. Even when I had no belief in myself, he gave me words of comfort and support that I clung to like a floatation ring in the raging waves of thoughts that forced themselves into my mind. My months of living in the forest, traveling back to Esme and Carlisle, had weakened my ability to silence the hoards. I would have drowned in them without the constant support. I had never valued my family more than I did in what Esme lovingly called my 'recovery' period.

There was only one element of my family life that plagued me. Despite his assistance in re-acclimating me to his way of life, Carlisle remained distant. I recalled only too clearly how he had enjoyed thinking about his cases when he returned home after a long day, leading to long discussions about interesting new theories and techniques while Esme rolled her eyes and engaged herself in her own activities. Or him ordering new inventions for us to disassemble attempt to put back together such as the new woman's hair dryer or the lie-detector test, which had fascinating implications for humans' legal proceedings. Since my return, however, none of these activities had returned. For the most part, Carlisle kept his thoughts to himself, covering them carefully when he came home. I ached for the connection we had once held, but blamed myself entirely for the possibility that it might never be again.

As winter turned to spring the pain eased slightly. Carlisle and Esme introduced me to their lakeside retreat, where we would go in the lengthening days to escape from human interference, swimming in the depths with terrified fishes, and enjoying the flickering light of an outdoor fire with fragrant wood burning in a stone fireplace Carlisle and I created under Esme's careful aesthetic supervision while sitting in handcrafted Adirondack chairs.

Only a few trips to the cabin at the lake made me realize that this location had much more significance to them then it ever could for me. Slightly abashed at the images and memories that came unbidden to the minds of my normally tame parents, tangled sheets and crushed greenery, I recognized that since my return, they had had hardly any time to be together, and it was a absence that both of them needed, though they would never recognize it in themselves. So, on the third of these such trips, I volunteered to go back to the Rochester house early to give them time alone. Though they argued with me, a latent fear of my departure appearing behind their assurances, I assured them that I would be in Rochester upon their return, and had no plans of leaving, especially without informing them. And so they allowed me to go, secure that I only needed some time to myself, as I always had in the past.

In the deepening shadows of the late spring evening, I drove past the rows of hastily compiled shelters in what they called the 'Hoovervilles' of Rochester. Even as they mocked the current president's ineffectiveness, these communities out of which I had taken so many lives, saddened me as they spoke of the many that had been impacted by this national catastrophe. Thankfully Carlisle had been intelligent enough to deposit his savings earned from centuries of work around the globe, avoiding the massive losses that so many had faced. Still, he explained to me that he still felt the need to care for those suffering from lack of basic amenities, offering free medical care to out of work migrants and their families. Esme ensured that the majority of food that was purchased unnecessarily for us made it into the food shelters that so many relied on. It tugged at her heartstrings that so many men, women, and children suffered in a situation over which they had little control.

As I passed the sea of huts, I pushed the multitude of depressed and downtrodden voices from my mind. As the streets regained their affluent appearance in the center of town, I drove by a florist I had seen mentioned in Carlisle's mind that he frequented when hoping to delight Esme. I smirked at the thought that he would even need to try so hard, when her adoration for him had hardly lessened in decade since she had joined this family. It was impossible to even imagine going back to the life that Carlisle and I had led, when she added so much joy to both of our lives and accepted me back so seamlessly.

As knowledge of my appreciation for the woman that I had begun to recognize as my adoptive mother welled into my still heart, I spontaneously pulled the car over. Her comforting presence and constant support helped fill the position in my heart where I had long grieved for my real mother. Now, with my return, I finally recognized that Esme was more than just a compatriot, or even a sister. She was truly becoming my mother. Comforted in that fact, I wanted to provide her some small token of my appreciation. Esme always enjoyed having fresh blooms in the house, something I could easily provide for her upon her return to the house. Carefully walking at human pace into the shop, I looked over to the proprietress behind the shop's cash register. The bell chiming on the shop door alerted her to my presence, and I caught her spike of interest as she looked up from her current customers and registered my appearance.

_Could this be the long lost Cullen boy?_ She wondered, drawn in as other imperceptive human females at my superficial looks. Her heart fluttered as I gave a small smile and turned away. If only she knew what I was, she would run screaming for the door without a glance at my pale face. Instead she carefully registered my steps as I ambled along the glass wall of potted plants and bursting flowers.

"I'll be right with you," she called coquettishly, her voice breathy and excited.

_Who is __**he**__?_ another female mental voice intruded, speculatively evaluating my back.

_Ah, this must be Mrs. Cullen's brother! What a wonderful opportunity!_ A third, slightly more mature female voice thought, loudly cutting through the buzz of other voices. The other customers had clearly heard the gossip that Carlise and Esme had studiously spread about my regretful absence and their joy at my return. I felt the two curious voices approach as they completed their transaction.

"Mr. Mason?" one of the women inquired at my shoulder. Stifling my momentary annoyance I slowly turned around.

"Yes?" I replied carefully, searching the woman's mind for why she would know my true last name.

A middle-aged women eyed me calculatingly, "Ah, yes. I thought that was you! You are just the image of your sister, our dear Mrs. Cullen!"

I permitted a small smile. Of course Esme would have told them that I was her brother and thus her maiden name was Mason. How strange to regain my name after electing to rejoin the Cullen family.

"Oh, but of course, you must think me so rude!" she laughed airily. "I am Lillian Hale, the wife of Robert Hale at the National Trust banking headquarters. We, of course, are well acquainted with your dear brother by marriage, Dr. Cullen, from his wonderful work at the hospital, and your sister for her help in all of our charity events. She has been an absolute doll to help us throw together our little functions." I suppressed a wider smile. _Little_ often meant a small fortune spent on a boring cotillion. And,as far as I knew, not only did my adoptive parents not have a close relationship with this 'society' family, but Esme had gone out of her way to avoid a closer relationship with the Hale's and their set.

"Of course," I lied smoothly. "She has often commented, since my return, how solicitous you have been since they moved to Rochester."

"Well, thank you. We all must do what we can in these troubled times," she sighed dramatically, satisfaction and a smug pride edged her thoughts. A flurry of questions about my absence flooded into her head, but awareness of her daughter and proximity of a possible match won out. "Well I am very pleased to be meeting you now. Also, please let me introduce my daughter, Rosalie."

"A pleasure," I turned to her, bowing my head slightly. Her violet eyes glanced up at me through pale eyelashes, smiling flirtatiously. She itemized me carefully, assessing my pale skin and unusual color of eyes, as well as the angles of my cheekbones and quality of my clothing. She held out a gloved hand, expecting me to be overjoyed at the opportunity to kiss any part of her, as so many other young men had done, but I merely performed a shallow bow over it before releasing. I would need to extricate myself from the line of questioning forming in her mother's mind as quickly as possible as I saw her speculate about my appropriateness as a match for her daughter.

"She will be turning seventeen next month," the mother said suggestively. "We are so excited to have a small get-together to celebrate her debut. Perhaps you and your sister would be interested in attending? I will send along an invitation just as soon as they are ready. The calligraphers..." As she continued to draw out some insignificant detail of the party planning process, I heard Rosalie's thoughts as she carefully evaluated me, a subtle expectation lurked behind her thoughts. She wanted me to comment on her beauty, compliment her perfect skin, fall in love at first site with her perfectly shaped eyes. That I hadn't done so yet was irritating her.

"Well, do excuse me ladies," interrupting in a break of Lillian's endless prattle. "I promised my sister to pick up a bouquet for the house and I wouldn't want to be tardy."

By now, since I had spoken but not to comment on Rosalie's appearance, the young woman was seething silently, already thinking me not worthy of her attention. For my part, I was only annoyed at the tone of arrogance of her thoughts and assurance of her own beauty.

I made a last excuse and walked as swiftly as was seemly to the florists counter, greeting an overjoyed employee. Their thoughts deafening, the two women behind me slowly made their way out the door. The mother, Lillian, was annoyed at my hasty departure, weighing the fine looks of my family and success of Carlisle against my apparent rudeness and lack of an obvious position on the social ladder. She had decided not to rule me out, but encourage Rosalie to accept more eligible, status matches...after her birthday, of course. For her part, the daughter continued to spew vitriolic thoughts, degrading me and my family in her thoughts. However, she did keep returning to the insecurity that Esme might be more beautiful than she was. I wanted to roll my eyes at the obvious superficiality of this young girl. If she knew the gentle woman in my life at all, she would know that beauty meant nothing to Esme.

Annoyed by the volume of her internal voice, I quickly picked out a already wrapped bouquet without regard to the flowers it held, rushing out the door after paying quickly. I was eager for the quiet of the house, away from the heightened expectations, voiced and thought, of the society set.

…...

_Carlisle_

I looked down the moon lighting the smooth, uninterrupted plane of my wife's back into a luminescent glow as she pressed herself close to me on the mussed sheets. Our breathing matched as I reveled in the nearness of my mate.

I had not wanted to admit it, but Edward was right, we needed time to be alone, together. The past few months had been so tumultuous, the ever-present sorrow at Edward's absence molding into the joy at his return, and lurking fear of another rejection. Esme, of course, had no issue with fitting Edward back into our lives, but the self-doubt lurked in me that I had imposed an unnecessarily harsh life on him with edicts that he couldn't possibly follow. Even now, knowing that he was only minutes away in Rochester, a part of me yearned for my son, needing him to know how much I supported him, even though he of all creation, could understand my feelings toward him. Still, would he ever truly be happy with our life? With me?

Esme's tousled caramel head looked up at me. Spotting the crease between my eyes she stroked a soft hand down my cheek, causing an involuntary shiver to run up my spine.

"What is it, Carlisle?" she asked gently, confusion written on her face.

I sighed deeply, trying to release the tension in my body. "Edward."

"Ah," she said softly, comprehension dawning on her features. She waited expectantly, knowing I would unburden my thoughts on her.

"He is still so blue," I hedged. "Even when helping you or spending time hunting with me, he seems lost. Lonely, even."

"And you're worried he'll leave again," she completed, easily reading my unspoken thoughts.

"Yes," I said, my voice cracking with emotion. "I don't know how I can bear him leaving but only want what is best for him. I can't help feeling that I am failing him every day..."

"Stop," Esme interrupted me firmly. "You are his father and do more for him every day than most parents do in a lifetime. Trust me." I sensed the latent hostility and pain toward the shadowed memories she had of her own distant, emotionally abusive father.

"Esme, I..." I started again, unable to bear the pain I felt in her voice.

"No, please let me talk" she interrupted again. "You need to stop blaming yourself for Edward going his own way, and preventing your bond with him because of this need to feel guilty. I know it was how you were raised, but you need to see that he wants to be with us, and stop raising a barrier between you and him whenever he enters the room. You are shutting him out for fear of being hurt if you accept him back in.

Was I shutting him out? I had been quiet around him, certainly, but I aimed to give him space to ensure that staying was what he really wanted, no matter how I desired it. I began to respond but she interjected before I could begin.

"Perhaps it was good that Edward went away," she said pensively, sitting up and wrapping the sheet around herself. "It allowed him to see more of the world than we could provide in our quiet, domestic home. Every young boy or girl has a bout of rebellion at some point." I smirked, thinking of the persistent young woman who appeared in my office after breaking a leg, but she continued before I could speak.

"He needed to _experience_, Carlisle. To grow up, as it were. And in experiencing, despite all he saw, despite all he did, he came back to us. Don't you see what that means?" she leaned toward me, willing me to understand with her tone and fire of her eyes. "He wants _us_ Carlisle. Not the life he could have led like so many others of our kind, he wants to be like you. Emulating you. Accepting you. You have created a family out of the three of us. Even if he did want to leave again, which I would try to prevent in whatever way possible," she added as an aside, "he has made a choice that _you _are the one he wants to stand behind. No amount of stubbornness on his part, or guilt on yours, will change that."

Her speech over, she sat back, breathing quickly . Was it truly my own fear about Edward that was preventing me from accepting him fully back into our lives? Into my life? As I forced myself to consider, I knew that it had to be true. In my terror of losing my son, a relationship almost the equal of that with my wife, I had not allowed him fully back into my heart. I blamed myself to avoid addressing my anger with him for leaving. If I continued to shut him out, I would only destroy the tentative bond I was beginning to build again.

I turned my eyes to my wife. She was right, as always. She had clearly understood my actions weeks ago and hoped I would realize and change my behavior in my own time. Tonight's outburst was just the culmination of her frustration over my obtuseness. I didn't deserve her. Even after ten years of marriage, her perfection and the pure..._rightness_ of our relationship, her ability to know me and what was best for me at the same time, still stunned me. I was truly the most fortunate being in the world. My better half, indeed.

"You're right," I finally said aloud after considering her words fully. "You're absolutely right. I've been a fool to not recognize my own emotions and for holding Edward at arms-length." I held up my own arms, eager for the comfort I found when she was in them.

She remained erect. "So you'll talk to him when we return?" she questioned, trying to provoke me into changing my normally slow-moving thought process.

"Yes, I'll speak to Edward as soon as we return. She gave a short, self-satisfied nod, smiling coyly before she again lay herself down on my body.

"You silly boys," she murmured into my chest.

"Well that's why we have you," I smiled, kissing the crown of her head. "To be the mother of both of us, taking care of emotions we even know we had."

Esme sighed softly, an indication that something was crossing her mind. I searched for clues about her mood before inwardly cursing myself. How could I have been so insensitive as to bring up motherhood when she still often thought of the child who had died before he could really live, her young son John. He had destroyed Esme's human life in the process. And while Edward had accepted me as a father, could he truly accept Esme's natural place as a mother in his life, no matter how much she desired it?

Pulling her up toward me I kissed her gently, "I am so sorry, my love. That was inexcusably thoughtless of me."

"No, I'm sorry" she sighed again, kissing me back. "I don't want you to think that I am not happy in our life. You are enough for me. Don't ever doubt that. And with Edward, I feel that I truly have everything I need.

"But...?" I suggested gently, encouraging her to bare her emotions as I had so recently done.

She smiled gently as she looked at me. "No buts, my darling. Perhaps I used to dream of having a large family, with children surrounding me and taking care of me in my old age, you by my side." Her forehead furrowed sadly, eyes unfocused. "Especially a daughter. I always longed to have a daughter. To fix her hair, tell her stories of knights and princesses, encourage her to pursue a career and counsel her against foolish decisions with young men." She sighed again but smiled looking into my eyes, "but I do not regret anything about my life."

She continued mischievously, "Maybe I will just look forward to the day when Edward finds his mate. I am eager to see the one who completes him as fully as you complete me. On that day I will not only gain a daughter, but my family will truly be complete with all my loved ones happy."

I smiled at her optimism, softly kissing her unmarred brow.

"I too look forward to that day. To see Edward happy and to meet the woman that Edward deems an equal."


	3. 3: Struggle

**Thank you for all the supportive comments you have put out so far. It is always nice to know that I'm not the only one considering the development of the family dynamic! Here is a continuation, one of the last before we get to a fundamental familial shift…I think you know to what I'm referring!**

**Still looking for a Beta if anyone is interested. Also, it came to my attention that EliseShaw has taken down her previous stories. I don't know if she will repost, but this story can be taken on its own. In case you are not sure what is happening, this story begins with the return of Edward from his 'rebellious years' away from Carlisle and Esme in the late 20's into the early '30s. At that point Carlisle and Esme were living in Rochester, NY. Please let me know if you have any questions or points you don't understand in the context of this story!**

_Chapter 3: Struggle_

_Edward_

_June 1932_

I tapped my pencil on the marred wood of the deep brown of the walnut desks, imitating the bored actions of my classmates as we waited for the class to end. Even the stern French teacher, Monsieur Brennet, had lost his normal erect posture and disciplined repetition of subjunctive conjugations in favor of slumping over his desk in the heat, only looking up to scold whatever whispered words were loud enough to catch his attention in our assigned 'reading time.' All he could think about was escaping the boiling heat that the enormous box air conditioner could not fully drive out. While James Monroe Junior Senior High School contained some of the wealthiest sons and daughters of Rochester, with its Greek columns and newly built cafeteria, the unseasonable warmth of June had undone its teacher and students. The thoughts of every student, teacher, and staff member ached for summer vacation away from the building's intolerable heat. The heat did not bother me in the slightest, but I was eager to remove myself from the influence of hundreds of impatient thoughts, and the ripe body odors that the heat produced in favor of the crisp scent of pine and tangy crisp scent of lake water.

As the seconds slowly passed, counting down the final minutes of the school year, I contemplated the changes in the past year with a strong degree of satisfaction. I finally felt a part of my family. Carlisle finally admitted his anger with me about my 'time away,' which he regretfully saw as a rejection of him and his way of life, and his fear about my leaving again. After a great number of discussions where I sorted through his thoughts and tried to reflect my own sorrow, we were finally able to mutually absolve each other of blame, vowing to start again. It was after these conversations that we finally regained some of the closeness that we had once had. He no longer closed his thoughts to me, taking pleasure in presenting me with moral quandaries and divulging details of patients that weighed heavily on his mind so Esme could comfort him and I could talk him through the process. Every day my fascination in medicine and his interactions with patients grew, causing me to wondering if perhaps the next schooling on which I would embark would be within the confines of a medical college, a prospect that delighted Carlisle. However, as Esme and Carlisle had described me as a sixteen year old boy to their acquaintances in Rochester, I knew that eventually I would need to return to school while we remained in this city.

Resuming senior high school classes with the school children of Rochester seemed appropriate penance, allowing me to confront the constant pull I felt to satisfy my thirst, while sorting out my own thoughts from those that pressed into my head. The classes themselves were fairly basic, and my ability to spend the nights of the first weeks of school reading textbooks that then took an entire year to unfold in classes meant I was consistently ahead of the curve. It provided me a means to understand the few new developments that had occurred since my last bout of formal schooling, each of which I supplemented by ordering new publications and journals that kept my family abreast of the developments in the world.

My social interactions, however, left much to be desired. Though the Senior High school was considered to be one of the most prestigious public schools in the country, it seemed to only be grooming rich, entitled young boys to follow their fathers to Harvard, Princeton, and Yale and a place for young women to secure the most handsome well-off young men to make them housewives. For my part I endlessly evaded suggestions from young women that ranged from demure proposals of a walk to the soda parlor, to brazen attempts to rendezvous in a dark car in the dead of night. After several gentle and a few more blatant rejections, I was mostly left in peace. Only the curious and much admired Rosalie Hale persisted in commenting that our mutual good looks would be well matched and slyly passing notes of her interest. I finally rejected her outright, leaving her to huff condescendingly to her girlfriends that I was quite strange and not worth her time. Within a normal human hearing range she even commented that it was not worth getting excited about a boy who was clearly sickly, as you could see from his pale skin and frequent absences. It was a small price on my vanity to finally be left in peace.

I willingly struggled against the trite thoughts of my female classmates and the dull meanderings of mind that entered the thoughts of most of the males. However, there was a depraved streak in some of the wealthiest young men that tempted me daily to dispatch them all from the world. The band of eighteen year old young men was led by the highest society boy of all, Royce King II. In his thoughts, and in those of his friends, I heard boasts about the corruption his father perpetuated that preyed on the less fortunate that made me seethe with injustice and tales of payoffs for politicians that frustrated my belief in the integrity of the political system. That was hardly the worst, however. He gloated about vicious pranks pulled on children, reveled in memories of tearing the clothing of destitute young women in dark alleyways, and savored speculations on his next victims. I longed to end the torments that he caused almost nightly, as he seemed to have no redeeming features.

When I confided my frustration to Carlisle, he nodded in sympathy, "He does seem to be a rather troubled young man," he said pensively, considering what he had heard of the dirty policies of the King family and Royce's well-known wildness.

"We have to stop him, Carlisle!" I raged, pacing back and forth in the sitting room faster than the human eye would be able to catch. "His mind is...disgusting. His only thoughts are of self-gratification, and his self-gratification comes from the misfortune and pain of others. He has to be stopped."

"Edward," Carlisle said gently, recalling me to myself. He specifically called to mind a memory of me standing in front of him, making a promise during our reconciliation, _I will not take a life based on the thoughts I hear._

"I know," I grit my teeth, fists tightening in tension. "I promised not to act, but how can I not?"

Carlisle considered every possible angle of the situation, turning it around in his mind. He finally lit on the role of parents. To care for and protect their children, even from themselves. _He will graduate come June, correct?_

I nodded tersely in agreement.

"He will join his father in managing the National Trust banks," Carlisle continued aloud. "He will be under his father's wing, hardly without activities to occupy his mind and challenge him."

"You think that _his_ family, the corrupt King family, will provide _guidance_?" I practically yelled back at him.

"It is not only his father that will be keeping an eye on him," Esme interjected softly, "I recently saw his mother at the aid society's benefit auction. She is eager to find him a proper wife to settle down. With the mothers of so many young women eager to capture the richest young man of them all, he will be under the scrutiny of his family as well as every other wealthy parent with an eligible daughter."

Against her knowledge of the inner workings of Rochester elite I had no rebuttal, though I doubted that the subtle pressures of a society mother could stop truly evil behavior. I was still angry and unsettled at the thought of him being in the world, but allowed Carlisle and Esme to talk me down. I knew that I did not want to be the hunter again. If I was not that man, then I would trust Carlisle and Esme to help me find the correct course of action.

Their love was a constant thing, support woven into every thought and small action. Still, I did not truly feel whole with my parents until Christmas. After sitting through hours of supposedly advanced education that taught the exact same lessons that I had remembered from a decade prior, I began the two weeks of winter vacation with endless days of decorating alongside Esme, and faithful attendance at Carlisle's holiday party obligations.

In the flurry of holiday celebrations, my mind tried to grasp something familiar that could stabilize me in the tumult of the holiday season. As I passed through the living room on another of Esme's decorating tasks, my eyes lit upon the still piano. For weeks I had noted a touch of sadness in Esme's mind as she passed its silent presence, wondering fleetingly if I would ever play again. Daily the piano tempted me, the pristine piano key cover for the baby grand begging to be lifted softly. I longed to caress the ivory keys and evoke music that lifted my spirits and helped me escape from the world. It was a lack of trust that held me back. I did not trust that I could contain the pain and shame inside of me that would inevitably come pouring out of my fingers, plunging my gentle family into despair at my songs. I never could hide the tenor of my emotions from my music. On Christmas Eve day, however, with Carlisle basking in the glow of firelight and a new medical journal in his study, and Esme contentedly sketching a few designs she had for her final architectural project due in the Spring, I finally felt at peace. Months of resisting action had calmed me, while the love of my parents had renewed my feeling of peace. Breathing in, I tasted the warm cinnamon scent of my father and the comforting waft that almost smelled like warm baked bread of the only mother I had left. A woman who had truly taken her place as a mother to me. I truly was home.

Walking silently through the house, I sat on the smooth black bench, memory settling my legs in their natural position while my hands carefully lifted the cover. Breathing deeply to reacquaint myself with the perfectly crafted ebony and ivory keys, I began playing, almost unconsciously selecting a piece that served to calm me and express some of my deepest emotion. At the first chord Carlisle and Esme's wordless joy resonated in my mind, looking up from their various activities. As Debussy's smooth notes echoed both loneliness and fulfillment through the house, they slowly came to stand behind me, hands joined as they absorbed my music. Claire de Lune was truly a perfect choice. Seemingly calm, descending into tumultuous chords and then growing in complexity, the notes flowed out of me, absorbing me, providing them the window into my head that I held in theirs. Submerging myself in the music, time held no meaning. As I emerged, climbing to the final soft note, they each laid a hand on my shoulders, understanding and love in their thoughts.

"Thank you, Edward," Esme said tremulously, emotion choking her words. "That was so beautiful."

I breathed their scents deeply before standing and moving around the bench to stand in front of them. "Thank you father," I said to Carlisle. "For making me proud to be your son and supporting me when I could not even support myself."

Turning to Esme I looked into her eyes, knowing she felt such pride and love for me. "And thank you Esme, for taking me back into your life in spite of the knowledge of what I'd done, and believing that I could be a better person. I am also proud to be your son," she started slightly, aware of the shift in my words. "And I am even more proud," I continued, "to call you my mother, who completes my family."

With a wide smile, Esme began crying tearlessly, wrapping me in a tight hug. As soon as I had said it, I knew it was the truth. In spite of, and perhaps because of all that we had gone through together, my family had truly become a family. A father, mother, and their somewhat imperfect, rebellious son. Since that day, our roles had shifted slightly, with Esme more willing to tell me what to do, but also showering me with love in appreciation. She had never been more overjoyed and, basking in the glow of her warmth, Carlisle and I became even closer, surpassing even our relationship just after my change.

Even now, a recollection of that moment brought a smile to my lips as the warm scene at home faded to the variegated browns of the wooden classroom. With the anticipation of the love of my family at home, my eyes flicked to the clock again, though my mind had been silently cataloguing each microsecond since the last time I looked. In the final ten seconds, the tenor in the classroom shifted as, without exception, every human in the classroom counted down.

_Ten...nine...eight..._Finally I would be able to exit into the cloudy, humid day where I could return home.

_Seven...six...five..._Perhaps I could telephone Carlisle and tell him to end his shift early so we could head to the lake immediately. I was eager for a respite from the aching uncertainty of the Hooverville tramps, and the confident self-centeredness of the wealthy.

And suddenly, in the last four seconds of the school day, the sun split through the classroom window.

I jerked my arm away from its resting place on the desk faster than a human eye could see, only shining for one one-thousandth of a second before I was again out of the light. Enough clothing was covering my body that the shaft of light that brightened my white long-sleeved shirt did not light me up conspicuously. I glanced around to see if anyone had noted my strange action. It seems that most students were too intent on the clock to notice my move and my shoulders involuntarily sagged from relief. But one person had registered my strange behavior.

_What was __**that**__? _Rosalie Hale's sharp internal voice queried, pointedly looking at my back from the corner in which she sat. Thankfully the bell clamored right on cue, and the bustle of the students leaping out of their seats joyfully as the summer holiday seemed to distract her. Still, as she passed me on the way out of class, her eyes narrowed at me in confusion then proceeded to walk out with her friends, her golden hair reflecting the sun as she tossed it in the doorway.

The doorway. It was completely lit with light from a sky quickly turning from ominous rain clouds to clear bright blue. Feigning clumsiness, I dropped my French book under a carefully covered desk, making sure to root around until all the students left. If I was lucky, perhaps Monsieur Brennet would also leave.

_Ah, finally! Vacation! Now I can finally focus on reading those Agatha Christie novels that I received in the mail!_ He busied himself around his desk, locking drawers for the next few months and was about to walk out when he noticed me. _What is he doing there? Ah, well the Cullen boy is quite strange._

His feet entered my peripheral vision. "Edward?" he asked questioningly, "Do you need any assistance?"

"No, Monsieur Brennet," I replied softly, grabbing the book and standing up slowly. "I just dropped my book." I handed the borrowed copy back to him.

"Ah, wonderful!" he replied enthusiastically, wiping his brow with a bright red handkerchief. "Well, run along and enjoy your vacation! I'll see you next fall, c'est correcte?"

"Oui monsieur," I replied, moving as slowly as was acceptable. The air conditioner wheezed loudly, momentarily distracting him as he waved me out and I was able to speed through the light into the hallway before he realized.

_What was..._he thought, noting a split second of the shimmer my skin threw on the classroom ceiling. _Oh, never mind. It must just be the heat playing tricks on me. It's about time for a break!_

Letting out a deep breath I didn't know I had been holding, I continued down the empty corridor, thankful to have escaped without raising alarm. My relief was short-lived, however. I came to the front door, looking out into the brightly lit courtyard that lay between me and freedom. While the majority of the student population had quickly cleared the campus, a few young boys and their potential beaus lounged in the grassy shade under a distant tree, and I could hear the thoughts of several teachers cleaning up their classrooms with window that faced the building facade. Normally I walked the distance to the trees and ran the remainder home. I calculated a very small probability that I could run the over 100 yards to the tree line without being spotted by one of 72 humans in the vicinity.

I quickly circled the building, stepping into stairwells or unlocked closets whenever a human passed by. After surveying the three exits, even the janitorial door that led to a courtyard for banging erasers, I concluded that there was no way that I could exit the building unseen, and resolved to wait until the sun had set. Unfortunately, as it was the summer solstice in just four days, it would be just over seven hours for me to sit. Esme would be panicked by the time I returned. Since she also wouldn't be leaving the house, however, I hoped she understood the reason for my tardiness.

Sighing, I avoided the excited trio of teachers making their way out of the school and sped to the dark library to bide my time. Anyone who noticed me would think that all the rumors about our kind, about vampires, were true I smiled wryly to myself. Dark room, avoiding light, looking forward to hunting the innocent. Well, not quite the same. Humans would just as eagerly have eaten these 'innocents'.

I picked a random book off the librarian's desk, absentmindedly left in her eagerness to escape into the freedom that summer provided. Glancing at the title, I allowed one short laugh. _All Quiet on the Western Front. _How appropriate. Though I had recently read Erich Maria Remarque's book in the original German, ordered thoughtfully by Carlisle after my return when I had decided to perfect my German, I was interested to see what the translator made of this novel, especially considering the current suffering going on in Germany after the Great War.

As I began reading the words, I recalled Carlisle's memory of my dying mother, her confession that she hadn't wanted me to go to war when I had been so eager, her determination that I would live. Well, she had gotten her wish, my mind registered the dark humor of the situation. There was no way I would be within one hundred miles of such a human bloodbath now, though I knew there were many of my kind saw the battlefield as a golden opportunity, if not a moral necessity, to feast on the blood of dying soldiers, putting them out of their pain. The war I had been so eager to join as a human now repelled me in every sense. Did humans not realize how unnecessary war was in the context of general human suffering? How breakable each human is and how easily a life is ended? And yet war, endless war killing the youth of Europe and America, was the only way to solve our international problems.

Much of my observation had, of course, been taken from Carlisle's own experiences. Carlisle was a strong believer in peace after years of observations of wars all over the world. He had learned medicine in the bosom of the French Revolution and cared for wounded on both sides of the Napoleonic Wars. He amputated limbs with no more than a swig of whiskey for anesthesia in the American Revolution, and had sealed injuries in soldiers of white and black skin in the Civil War. His compassion drew him to the suffering masses of young who died, but his philosophy went staunchly against the principles and mandates of war. He had been considering returning to Europe with the American legions in the Great War, but his fear of attracting attention if he refused to work outdoors had prevented him from joining the military outright. After he changed me, he felt his greatest responsibility was to me, to keep me from temptation and danger, which warfare would undoubtedly represent. It was his experiences and my own actions as the hunter, that had finally turned my desire away from killing, no matter whether death came in the form of a machine gun, or razor sharp teeth. It was only due to the actions of my creator, my father, that I was not one of the "generation of men who, even though they may have escaped shells, were destroyed by the war," as Remarque describes.

In my travels I had seen so many of these young men, maimed by war physically and psychologically to the point where they could not function in society. A world that welcomed them back as heroes disregarded the reality that so many suffered from "combat fatigue" where they jumped at the slightest noise, horror filling their minds and hearts as I was forced to relive the pointless charges over muddy, bomb-marked land where young men were cut down like slender blades of grass before the unrelenting motion of the lawn mower's teeth. In San Francisco, where I had stalked the lowlifes that teemed in the still-thriving city, the most disturbed minds echoed with horrors they themselves had experienced on the battlefield. As I feasted, pity began to enter my heart as I felt their horror, as if they were experiencing the war over again and the torment in their mind was embodied in my actions. My killing them was as much to take them out of their own misery as to save those they had wronged. But what did that make me? At my lowest I had truly seen myself as a representation of all that was wrong, the demon that preyed on the weakest of mind, the most disturbed of heart. Carlisle had truly been my salvation from the veterans' fate of emptiness, and from my own self-destructive cycle.

As I considered the changes in my take on life, paging through the vivid account of the pointlessness of war from the perspective of a young German soldier, a mental voice just as disturbed, though not one touched by war, intruded on my consciousness, its harsh tones as unmistakable as the cruelty that accompanied it. It seems my evening would not be so quiet after all as Royce King II and his friends broke into the school.


	4. 4: Temptation

**Hope everyone had a Happy New Year! As always, I love comments and would be happy to answer any questions you have about the story line as it develops.**

_Chapter 4: Temptation_

_Carlisle_

My eyes sped across the page of my new journal, examining the American Medical Association's commentary. Disapprovingly I read the strident arguments against physicians working in the new organizations they were beginning to call 'health maintenance organizations, created to manage the needs of the destitute across the country. Noting the growing shadows in my study, I absentmindedly turned on a light unnecessary to my eyes, a habit grown out of centuries of human behavior observation. I thoroughly disagreed with the argument, drumming my fingers against the worn leather of my favorite chair in annoyance at their stance. In the midst of so much turmoil, was it so much to ask for guaranteed care for the populace that needed it most? The faces of the women and children I had encountered at the free clinic at which I volunteered swam before my eyes. Many suffered from illnesses I could easily cure, though lack of funds diverted to free medical care and refusal from the local government had wrought me helpless, unable to provide any but the most basic care to these desperate souls.

Esme stood with me in anonymously providing food and money to assuage the physical and economic pain that so many in our area were facing, but we had to tread carefully so as to not draw too much attention. Just the other day another physician at the clinic demanded to know from where the newest shipment of aspirin had come, refusing to accept my premise of a donation from one of the city's wealthy denizens. I had managed to remove myself from the situation discreetly so as to not draw attention, but knew that from now on, we would have to be more careful in our assistance. The need for subtlety infuriated me with the health and lives of so many on the line. Would it not be so much easier to just openly give money to the poor? I sighed. Even I knew this was not possible, given the scrutiny that would inevitably come to our door. No, it was better to proceed in secret actions, in spite of the medical establishment's disagreement. A greater need could be met with my continued assistance, no matter how secretly it was given.

Esme's light tap on the door interrupted my frustrated musings. "Carlisle?"

"Come in my love," I smiled, eagerly putting the aggravating text aside. I opened my arms to her, looking for the comfort her embrace provided. She surprised me, however, by staying near the door, shifting her weight between feet, a nervous habit.

"What's wrong?" I said quickly, more alert as I took in the uncertainty on her face.

"Oh, it's probably nothing," she said quickly, clearly responding to the tension in my face. "It's just that... Edward is late. Quite a few hours actually."

I thought back to the past few hours. I had come home directly from the hospital, nearly as excited as Edward was to depart for a calmer atmosphere away from the demands of the city and wanting to take him out of the way of temptation as soon as possible. As soon as I had reached the hospital exit, I had realized our trip would be delayed. Never had I been as grateful for the luxury of indoor parking as when I realized the sun had broken through the heavy cloud cover. I carefully chose the most shaded route home, watching apprehensively as the sky continued to clear. Reaching our house, I realized that Edward had not had a chance to return and resigned myself to waiting until nighttime to depart.

"I'm sure it's nothing, my dear," I said, smiling again. "He is likely being held captive at the school by the sun. I'm sure he'll return as soon as it has set, in the next half hour or so." We must choose schools more carefully next time, I thought, reviewing my observations on the geography surrounding Edward's prestigious school. I had not thought to account for the possibility of sunny days, but it would certainly be a concern the next time we moved.

"I am sure he was waiting, but something doesn't feel right," she said, unappeased. "It is low enough now that he should be able to make it home in the shadows without risking exposure. What if something happened the last day? Perhaps one of his teachers suspected him. Or, there is always the possibility that...temptation got to him. Maybe it was too soon to send him back to school." She finished guiltily.

"Come now, Esme," I chided her softly, rising from my chair to stand in front of her. "You know Edward has superb self-control, and will stop himself from any regretful action. And he, of all of us, will know the best course of action should any of his teachers be suspicious."

I wrapped her in my arms. "I know you still worry about him, but you must let him act as he will. We can only give him freedom and hope that he will choose the correct course of action."

"I know you're right," she responded, sighing into my chest. "But I can't help from feeling that there is still something missing for him. Even as open and joyful as he has been in the past few months, there is still a sadness, a wanting behind his eyes." She pulled her face away to smile up at me sadly. "Perhaps he is only lacking what we have to make him truly happy."

"I am so lucky to have you," I responded, kissing her softly. Her smooth lips felt like silk on mine, causing me to deepen the kiss. A low moan escaped from Esme's voice as she fit her body closer to mine, distracted by the growing presence of our need for each other. Did we have enough time before Edward came home to fulfill our desires? My mind quickly calculated through haze of want that was beginning to overtake me. No, as much as I wanted her, there was the chance that Edward would come home at any time. I gently pulled away, kissing her once more gently. I would not let his eagerly anticipated summer vacation start with visions of Esme and I that embarrassed both him and me. I had been eagerly anticipating this summer's vacation as well.

"Not right now," I said gently, stepping away. Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Edward could soon be home," I replied, kissing her brow. Esme returned my smile in understanding.

"I know!" she responded, clearly attempting to divert her own train of thoughts. "Well, maybe you can go meet him, then. I'm sure he will be frustrated to be so long inside when he could be on vacation. It is almost like having a human young man, anxious to escape from school."

I chuckled at her enthusiasm. "Pushing me away so soon?" I teased softly. She swatted my shoulder softly in return. "Alright, I will go meet him. Be ready to go to the lake house when we return!" I kissed her again quickly and then ran out the door.

"Already am!" she called after me, setting a smile on my face as I entered the wood toward the school, following Edward's trail.

_Edward_

_Oh, the uprights on that dish! I was ready to take her right there!_Royce King's mind screamed as he and his band of wealthy, ruthless young men lounged in the third floor teachers' study. For the past few hours, while the sun had continued its relentless path across the sky, alone in a now cloudless sky, I had had to listen to the bragging superiority of these boys. One school year had been quite enough. I was ready to make my escape as soon as the sun set completely.

_Do you think any teachers are still around? _Walter Scibner, the gang's scrawny sidekick, asked nervously. The others looked at him disdainfully. They had only given him access to their group of honor due to his family's illegal alcohol business, and were clearly now regretting it, despite the box of gin and whiskey that Walter had snuck from the hidden compartment in his basement.

Walter shriveled under their glares but continued meekly. _What if someone saw us and called the police? _Happiness at being included in the antics of these most well known sons of Rochester had been replaced by nervousness about the unknown nature of tonight's celebrations. The school board took break-ins seriously, he knew, heart thudding loudly at the thought of police intervention. Any investigation into his family would reveal the deep roots of their alcohol trade that would surely put his father behind bars, and destroy his family's main source of income.

_Why Walter?_ Ralph Bausch, the son of John Jacob Bausch's old age, and heir to the Bausch and Lamb spectacles fortune, sneered down at the kid. _Are you going to call the coppers? That would make you a snitch. You know what we do to snitches, don't you?_Ralph's six and a half foot tall stature enabled him to tower over the smaller boy, envisioning with pleasure the idea of beating Walter senseless, and then continuing to finish the job. His fists flexed in anticipation.

_Don't blow your wig. _Royce interjected from the prime seat at the window with his feet up on the marred chestnut table. _Even if they show up, a sawbuck and a few snipes will get you off free and clear. My father taught me that. _He smirked confidently, pulling an embossed silver cigarette case from his pocket. He selected one carefully before lighting it with an ivory lighter and blowing smoke into the air. Royce controlled the other boys with an ease that belied his comfort in wealth. He reveled in the power his wealth held and disdained the less rich who were, in his eyes, not worthy of existence. _Tonight isn't a night to be scared of consequences_, I saw him grin in the minds of the other young men as he leaned forward to pick up a bottle of bootleg gin. _Tonight is a night for celebration! To being at the top of the world!_

He lifted his bottle in the air as the others rushed to join him, noisily toasting each other in the light of the setting sun.

As I watched the sun finally go down through their eyes, I stood up silently, deducing an opportunity to make my getaway. I would leave them to their drunken revelry and finally get the freedom for which I yearned away from their maddening thoughts and temptation to stop their stream of consciousness. I stood silently and made my way to the heavy metal doors.

_Now where's Jack? _Royce's thoughts again intruded on my own, but it was not their casual tone that caught my attention.

Royce was thinking of Jack Gannett, the newspaper tycoon's son, and the plan for the evening. My fists clenched, shredding the fragile book in my hands as I saw their proposed entertainment to celebrate their upcoming graduation. Jack was evidently paying off some thugs to pick up a young woman in the Hooverville and bring her to the school for the crew's entertainment. Except for Walter, each of the men was planning for tonight and reliving lewd, horrifying scenes from their memories of past victims.

_I hope she's a brunette, like the last one, _Clark Williams II, the son of another Rochester bank tycoon chuckled, remembering tearing her hair while the others had their way with her. Unconsciously I tore apart the rest of the book, enraged at their casual cruelty.

_I'm just excited to get my hands on the dame. We'll have ourselves a regular clam-bake!_Ralph hooted, while the others joined in, Walter laughing nervously, unsure what was meant by the current banter.

I was ready to launch myself out of the library and dispatch these miserable ingrates when a new mental voice suddenly intruded, the only voice that could pull me back to myself.

_Edward?_ Carlisle's voice called out to me. I could see him running through the nearby forest in the deepening night, worried that he could not trace a new scent and that I was still in school. _I came to meet you, but do not see you anywhere outside. It is dark enough to come out. _When he didn't hear a response, he continued until at the boundary of the school's field. _Is everything alright, son?_

I growled softly, my breath quickening as my body was divided between the pull of Carlisle's voice, and the need gathering in my muscles to destroy the despicable minds of the boys above me.

Sensitive ears picking up my muted response, Carlisle sped his pace across the dark field and quickly made it to the school. Pushing open the janitor's door, broken from the intruders, he called out to me.

_Edward? Where are you son?_I growled softly in response, muscles locked in indecision. I could easily attack before Carlisle reached me, but his worry for me held me back. In my mind desire and reason battled. He found me before I could summon myself to decide. His hand gently grasped my tense upper arms, looking into my distant, furious eyes.

_What is it, Edward? What's wrong?_The clattering of a bottle caught both of our attention as he focused on listening to the loud voices upstairs. He did not recognize the voices but registered their high level of intoxication.

_Who?_He turned his attention to me, confused at the anger in my eyes and stance.

"Royce King" I spat through clenched teeth. Comprehension dawned in his eyes as he recognized my anger.

"What are they doing?" He said, forcing himself speak calmly and relax his body instead of reacting to my aggressive stance.

"Planning" I spat out again. "What they are planningto do." I didn't trust my self restraint to continue, but he pushed.

_Tell me, Edward. _His hands tightened around my arms, in restraint or anger, as I communicated the nefarious plan of the creatures just a few floors above, dwelling on Royce's mental glee over the thought of doing violence. His face grew pained, horrified at the notion that he had done this to others as well. I told him the darkest goals of the intended attackers, hoping to spur him to action, to somehow justify my own warring emotions.

However, as I finished, I could read his reactions as acutely as my own, and they slanted in an entirely different direction. His belief in the necessity to save lives outweighed the anger he felt at their planned actions. He would do what he could to stop them, but would not allow harm to befall them in the meantime.

"Did you hear what _said_?" I growled at him, unable to comprehend his calm when I was aching to kill.

"I am perfectly capable of hearing you, Edward," he snapped back, belying the torment in his thoughts. I knew he was disturbed by their thoughts and their history.

"How can you not want them to die when they have so disgustingly abused others? They have no accountability! Even the police turn a blind eye and refuse to suspect their involvement!" I raged at him, slightly too loudly. There was a pause in the upstairs conversation as they heard my voice. I listened closely, almost eager for them to come down and explore in order to avenge the deaths of the helpless. After a moment they dismissed the noise, all except Walter who was getting more nervous by the minute.

When Carlisle spoke, he spoke with quiet conviction, repeating words he had often repeated to me. "We cannot play God, Edward. If we decide to take the lives of those who have done wrong, where is the line? When do you stop and how do you decide what is enough? When do we become the evil we seek to destroy?" He looked into my eyes, willing me to understand his point of view, to see the divide.

In his eyes, I saw reflected the expression on my face, the rage that was helpless against reason. It held a shadow of another reflection. A reflection of my face two years ago, shining from a window in Los Angeles as I hunted my next victim. It was a face that haunted me nightly. There had been only torment in my eyes, desperation to find meaning in the hunt, to feel something other than despair when I finally satisfied my body's craving for blood. My eyes were empty, soulless. I had made a deal with myself that night, curled into a ball sobbing against the rough concrete, that the reflection I saw was not who I could be. That if I could only make it back to Carlisle, there was a chance I could be happy again. In his eyes I saw the happiness of the past few months, times when I felt peaceful, cared for, loved. Could I give that all up for my own twisted sense of justice?

I knew I could not. I exhaled the breath I had been holding, caught up in the tension. Feeling my release, Carlisle moved his hands to my shoulders, relief and pride in his face as he read my changed stance, the draining rage in my eyes. I forced my fists to relax, grabbing on to his arms.

"Help me," I rasped, still fighting the anger that built as the words flying upstairs echoed in my mind.

Nodding once, Carlisle shifted his position to wrap one arm under my arms, as if I was a lame child needing assistance. Keeping the arm tight around my back, I allowed him to lead me as we ran out of the dark library and through the dark hallways, emerging into the humid night air. All the way home, he kept his arm around me, sending me thoughts only of pride and support, keeping me sane as part of my mind demanded I return to do justice and pulling me in the other direction.

As I regained my reason, I still fought against the horror of the situation. These men who would go free were evil people. Though I could not be the one to destroy them, did that mean they would always live in privilege, sheltered from the evil they produced?

Their thoughts faded away into the purple black of the night and my internal battles were eclipsed by a suddenly overwhelming emotion from my father. His pride in me was profound. No matter what my actions had been, what I was prepared to do still, he recognized the difference in the boy I had been and the man I was becoming. The sole action of me walking away from the evil had illustrated what my minor actions over the past months could not, that I accepted his way of thinking and path in life, and that I truly did trust him. He had never been more proud of me than he was in this moment.

I reveled in the praise emanating from his thought, unsuccessfully attempting to avoid the shame that I felt for thinking such murderous thought. Whatever he said, or thought, how could I truly have moved on or be deserving of his praise when I was still a killer at core?

With Carlisle still holding me tightly, we ran the final few yards to where Esme's concerned face shone through the window, panic registering in her thoughts as she noted my compromised body in Carlisle's arms.

"What happened?" She said frantically as we entered the door, searching me with her eyes and hands as she looked for a wound. "Others?" She looked sharply at Carlisle for an explanation.

"Not others," I explained quietly, extricating myself from Carlisle's supportive arms.

"The young Royce King and his friends were in the school as Edward waited," Carlisle continued, relating the thoughts and plans of the young men as I had communicated them to him. As he spoke, Esme's expression turned from one of anxious concern to outrage and then to pity for their helpless victims. Her experiences at the hands of her human husband rose to mind. Despite her many good years with Carlisle, the fear and helplessness that she felt when faced her former husband's anger manifested itself in pity and sadness that others still suffered in the same way. Her dim memories again brought my anger to the forefront.

As he spoke, he evaluated me carefully, mind alert at any possibility that I would take off in pursuit of the men. Shame surged in my chest at my own weakness. It was as though I was a newborn again, with my father on watch for any lapse in judgment.

My father finished by explaining my role in the story, his pride emanating through his voice as he explained my return to reason, my rejection of the hunt. Esme's eyes turned to me, shining in love at my accomplishment. She took my hand, squeezing it gently in sympathy at my suffering, but proud of me nonetheless.

She then turned to what she saw as the most pressing matter at hand. "Is there anything we can do to help the poor girl?" Esme pled. "Edward, do not doubt that I believing you acted correctly in leaving the young men alone, but Carlisle, surely there must be a way to avoid this ordeal."

Carlisle pondered this for a moment, examining the situation in his mind as he considered places in which he could intervene to save her. He talked through his developing strategy aloud while I filled in the few details I knew of their plan and Esme provided practical information to assist him. While I was frustrated that it did not fully punish the perpetrators, I was satisfied that, at the very least, they would be frightened by the police intervention, and the hired thugs would no longer pose a threat to the Hooverville inhabitants.

As he prepared to leave I volunteered to assist him. He shook his head gently in response. "It would not be right to put you in such a position of temptation, son" Carlisle responded, compassion in his eyes. "But perhaps while I am away you and Esme can make arrangements to move the holiday we had planned for later this winter. It would be nice to be away from the area for a few weeks."

"What a wonderful idea!" Esme replied, suddenly enthused at the prospect of a new adventure and eager to distract me from the unpleasantness. Now that there was a plan to save the girl, Esme was happy to turn to new beginnings, and plan a wonderful summer vacation that distracted us all from the city teeming with violence and crime.

Anger still raged in my heart until Carlisle's thoughts caught my attention.

_Edward, _he looked into my eyes, easily reading the rage in my face. _Please let it go, son. It is time to again be part of the family._

Sighing, I nodded at Carlisle. As always my father was right. Though the plans of Royce King tried to push me to action, I accepted that I had made a choice. I would not break this family apart again in my desire for revenge.

Smiling, I turned to Esme, who already had a notebook of plans in front of her. No matter the sacrifice I felt I had to make, love was worth it.

*For notes on meanings of Slang words, see here:


	5. 5: Revelation

_**My apologies for the incredibly long delay since last I posted. There has been a lot going on in my life, but I definitely wanted to continue this story, especially as we get closer to Rosalie's change. Enjoy and, as always, please post comments if you have suggestions or like it!**_

**Chapter 5: Revelation **

_Edward_

_July 1932_

I grasped the tall pine tree one handed, breathing in the mixed scent of earth, rain, and pine resin, as well as the more subtle smell of the animals of all sizes hiding in the underbrush. My muscles tensing a fraction of a second before the motion, I launched myself from the branch on which I stood. I bounded through the wilderness, reveling in the feeling of the wind at my face, and steadily climbed one of the many mountains that peppered the Alaskan territories.

As always, Carlisle had been correct. A change of scenery was definitely needed and welcomed. In the middle of the Alaskan forests, far away from human civilization, I was finally able to let go of the self-doubt, uncertainty, and repressed frustrated that structured my every day in society. Day after day of our arrival in this area of the world had been made up of running, hunting and enjoying the solitude. Though we had initially had to evade the occasional disillusioned hopeful seeking to better their fortune by panning for gold in the Yukon, it was easy enough to veer away from their path on our run to the north. The barren mountain range that covered our northern neighbor served as a perfect means of masking our presence. The game was also plentiful enough in this area of the world, so long left untouched by even the most diligent adventurer. As the terrain steeply sloped upward, I pushed my untiring muscles faster, reaching the peak in seconds. I lay in the ever-present snow and realized that I would happily stay out in the wild.

Staying away from humanity was an impossibility, however. I knew that Carlisle would soon have to return from this impromptu month vacation, unwilling as he was to quit the completion of his contract next July. Esme was also eager to finish her architecture program, having finally taken enough classes to graduate as an architecture apprentice in the coming May. Carlisle had already begun preparations for her graduation, discreetly purchasing a crumbling mansion in rural Kentucky that she could repair and rebuild to her heart's content.

My parents. Thinking of their ever present acceptance of me calmed my thoughts, even as my wandering left them farther behind. As loving and protective as they were, it had been too long since they had been alone together for any extended period of time. For months I had been feeling desire from both of them that, despite their courteous attempts to suppress, emerged whenever they were in each others' presence. Caring for me had become their full time occupation. While I treasured their support, I also needed them to know that it was acceptable to me for them to be alone. Though I might long for the easy comfort they had with each other, I was hardly going to keep them from each other out of spite. It was, after all, natural for their bodies to have such inclinations. And so, I had left them to their own devices, and hadn't heard either of them in nearly a week.

Certainly I had considered the act in which they were engaged. I was a man, after all. However, what I did not understand was this base _need_ for each other. It was not just physical desire, but rather an all consuming necessity to be together. Like two magnets they were drawn together, unable to be in the same room without orienting themselves to each other. In a single glance they exchanged thoughts. I had hardly seen them at odds since they realized their passion for each other, and even then, they could not say anything to hurt the other.

I had never been in love, as a human or vampire. Though occasionally Esme liked to broach the subject, asking if I had seen any young human woman that caught my attention, each time I was able to flatly refuse her. Though many young women had been foolishly drawn to my physical appearance, I had hardly returned the favor. While I could assess their physical strengths and weaknesses, and could assess a woman's beauty by weighing the thoughts of those around me, none drew me in a fraction of the way that Carlisle was drawn to Esme, and she to him. Nor, had I met enough of my kind to understand whether this irresistible relationship was characteristic of all. I had come across the scents of many others in my years of hunting, though I avoided their owners when I heard their predatory thoughts emerge into my consciousness. I was too afraid to compare myself to them to allow for any sort of familiarity. Perhaps it would be the punishment for a murderer's lifestyle, living off the blood of humans. I already knew I was condemned, a soulless shell of a man. Perhaps my actions had stripped any remaining humanity from me and not allowed space for love.

Sighing, I stood, shaking the snow off my hair and bedraggled clothes, and throwing off the dark thoughts that were populating my mind. I was determined to enjoy the freedom of space, and of my mind, while I had it.

I scanned the horizon, surveying the surrounding peaks, and breathed in the clear, woodsy scents of the forest. A gust of wind from the Northwest drew my attention and without a thought I took off after the grizzly bear that lumbered through the forest about ten miles away. Though I had fed more often than was really necessary, being in the open allowed me to hunt for sport. Plus it was not every day that a carnivore was in my range. My venom flowed thinking of the slightly more satisfying taste of the carnivore. I drew nearer to the kill, speeding in anticipation, my legs touching the ground so lightly they barely made an impact on the sheet of snow.

_Yes!_

The sudden mental voice broke through my concentration. I stopped short, all thoughts of the bear fleeing from my mind. A mind I had never heard sped through the forest not three miles away from me, the single-minded focus of the hunt thrilling through the stranger's thoughts. Instantly I was on the defense, probing carefully into the thoughts of what seemed to be a female. What of our kind was out in the wild this far? I quickly opened my mind, but, as far as I could tell, there were no humans this deep in the wilderness. She seemed to be completely focused on the hunt, unaware of my presence. Tense, I moved slightly to ensure I was downwind so she wouldn't catch my scent, steadying myself with the scent of pine resin so I did not act on the instinct pulling me back to the hunt.

Watching through her eyes, I was afraid to move, though dreaded the thought that would come next. A delicate human broken before they knew what happened. I gripped the weak tree in front of me

She finally reached her prey, but it was not a stray human in the woods, that captured her delight and quenched her thirst. I froze with shock. The bear that I had been pursuing fell under her eager leap. Her teeth parted as she gripped its neck and immersed herself in the joy of satisfaction. Less than a mile away in the heavily wooded forest I could hear the crunch of branches and fallen leaves as she shifted her position to drink the last drops of blood, before allowing the heavy corpse fall to the ground. My throat burned at the thought of the lost meal, but it was easily ignored in the face of the jolt of surprise running through my mind and body.

Was it possible? Could there be another like Carlisle, Esme, and me? Others of our kind who abstained from our greatest temptation? I had never heard of such a thing and knew Carlisle hadn't either. I would have sensed such memories in his thoughts, especially during the period when my anger grew against him as I pushed to satisfy my true nature. Even his memories of the ruling clan, the Volturi, revealed that they had never seen one like Carlisle. I assured myself that he couldn't have kept such a secret from me. If he had known of others like him, he would have joined them long ago.

Lost in the tornado of confusion and disbelief swirling around in my head, I barely noticed when the unknown female straightened, her pale blond hair dropping down like a curtain over her eyes. She glanced around, perhaps sensing my still presence so near to her. She listened for a second, suspicious, before dismissing her feelings and running back the way she came. Was this creature just an anomaly? Was she alone in her behavior that was so abnormal, but was our hold on normality?

Just as she reached the limits of my senses, she thought of something that shocked me even more. Thoughts of another female, a strawberry blond woman with eastern European features, swam through her mind. A woman with golden eyes.

Were there more? I refused to believe that there was a whole coven like ours...But could it be true?

I resisted the urge to satisfy my curiosity by following her, Carlisle's advice about others of our kind warning me against approaching them without another at my side. If this was true, if there were others that fed in the same way as we did, Carlisle would want to know immediately. As soon as she was out of earshot, I ran in the opposite direction, trees flashing by as I quickly calculated the fastest distance to the cabin to which Carlisle and Esme had secluded themselves. I guess I would be cutting their interlude together short.

-

_Carlisle_

Esme curled into my body, her eyes closed in enjoyment as the glow of the fire reflected off her perfect cheek in the deepening darkness of twilight. I gazed at her unabashedly, thanking the heavenly father for the millionth time that she was mine. A slight knock at the door shocked me from my reverie and a slight jolt of disappointment threaded through my mind. Was our time together over so soon?

I quickly quashed that thought, aware as it was that Edward could hear me from such a short distance. I did not want to neglect him in my eagerness to be with my wife. Esme looked up at me with understanding and I kissed her gently on the head before moving to answer the door of our cabin retreat. Thankfully Esme and I were already clothed, and I quickly moved to let him in.

"Edward," I smiled, hugging him in a gentle embrace. To my surprise he remained stiff at my touch. Were we being selfish in our time together? Instantly I began searching my thoughts for ways to make up our rejection of him.

"It isn't that," he responded to my unspoken lament, a strange tone in his voice that I could not read. Uncertainty? Fear?

"What is it Edward?" I responded to the unease in his voice, muscles tensing in response to his agitation. He stood running his hands through his tousled copper hair, a sign of confusion and frustration.

"Another," he responded, moving quickly in the room and hugging Esme gently.

"Others of our kind," Esme responded nervously, quickly assessing Edward for any sign of harm. "Are you alright? Did they see you?"

"No," Edward said agitatedly, "I mean yes, I am perfectly well and she did not see me."

"She?" Esme said intently, interest creeping into her voice. I knew how she longed for Edward to find a match as we had found one another.

"No, it's not like that," he responded quickly, sensing the direction of Esme's words. He paced across the worn rug in front of the fireplace.

"Carlisle," he said quickly, turning to me, "Have you ever met another like you? Another one of our kind that does not drink the blood of humans?"

"Never," I responded, confused as to the direction of his words.

"Have you ever heard a story of a family like ours?" He persisted, looking into my eyes.

"No, Edward. You know that," I replied, now starting to worry at his agitation. Was he speaking of this to tell of his struggle? I moved toward him, ready to comfort and support him in any way I could.

"I was running in pursuit of a bear when I heard her. She was hunting," he resumed pacing. Esme drew in a sharp breath. I could tell that she was worried about exposing Edward to temptation. If a human had been near while he was hunting, it was easy for him to slip. And yet his eyes were still bright gold.

"No, you don't understand," Edward replied to my train of thought. "She wasn't hunting _a human. _She hunted and killed _the bear_."

I stopped. It was not possible.

"Not only that," Edward continued, pacing even faster. "I don't think this was the first time that she has killed an animal. I did not read much from her thoughts, but the bear was _satisfying _to her, not unusual."

The silence dominated the room. It could not be. It could not be possible that another like me existed. Would I not have heard stories? Wouldn't there have been signs?

I stayed frozen in place. But what if I hadn't? I had searched when I was a young vampire. Asked every one of my kind that I could, when I was not avoiding them with fear of succumbing to my body's desires as they had. Edward flinched slightly and I tempered my thoughts. Had they also avoided others, leaving to live in wilderness, away from the constant temptation? The scientist in my mind took over. If they did exist, like any of our kind they would be eager to avoid the spotlight, likely even experienced in the art of leaving no trace of our kind. I knew well that it was extremely difficult to maintain that control and took years of practice. Was it possible that they had done just that? Practiced for decades? Centuries? Millennia?

"Carlisle?" Esme said softly, pulling me out of my own thoughts. "Could this be?"

I looked at Edward, knowing he had followed my thoughts. He looked back at me with certainty. He was sure about what he saw. He was my son. I trusted him. His expression softened at my thoughts.

"It...it could be," I said hoarsely, hardly believing my own words.

Esme gasped, excitement sparkling in her eyes, surprising me. Then I realized I had underestimated how alone she was. For such a social creature as my love, how could I discount the fact that she only had Edward and me, two beings who were so comfortable with each other that often nothing need be, or was, said? So long she had gone without female companionship beyond the pointed words of the Rochester society set.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" she said breathily, anticipation in her voice. She moved toward the door, fluffing her hair as she caught her reflection in the window.

Her absent minded action awakened me to the reality of the situation.

"Wait, my love," I said, calling her back gently as I finally snapped out of the many questions my mind was still considering.

"Why?" she replied, confusion swimming in her features.

I gently ran my hand along the alabaster of her cheek. "We do not know what this means yet," I replied softly, scared above all of putting her in a position of danger. "We do not know who these others are, if they are hostile, if they would even be accepting of us."

I turned my eyes to Edward, who nodded slightly at my comments, understanding my rationale. I was so glad he had returned, his loyalty to our family outweighing the curiosity he must feel. My brave son. His eyes shone, absorbing my words, before he slightly shook his head. I knew he would never give himself that much credit.

"What do we do, Carlisle?" Esme's soft voice called me out of my reverie. Her soft, trusting amber eyes gazing up at me. I pondered this question. How to forge new bonds with those who had remained hidden for so long? How to express interest in meeting them without them feeling threatened that we were invading their territory? No matter their lifestyle, the relationships, and territorial nature of our kind were not to be taken lightly. But still, the pull to find others who thought as we did was so strong. I was just as tempted to take off after their scent to force a meeting.

No, it couldn't be that way without seeming aggressors.

"We give them the opportunity to come to us," I said, my mind sifting through the details of what Edward knew. "We can layer our tracks by where they were hunting so they know we are here. There are so few humans out here, they may be curious as to why we would hunt so far from a large population."

"But if our kind is as territorial as you seem to think, won't they feel threatened by our intrusion?" Edward pushed. I could feel his fear for both of us and I smiled thinking about the lengths he would go to protect his family.

"Esme and I have not hunted in a few days now," I glanced down at her in time to see a slightly embarrassed look on her face. "We will go hunting in the area that you heard the woman and see if we can pick up any other scents. That should give them enough of an idea that we know they are there but not pursuing them."

"We do not want them to fear us," Esme said approvingly, catching on to my plan.

I saw reservations and fear cross Edward's face, but it seems he could not find any holes and so nodded.

"Come," he said, moving back to the door. "I'll show you the way."

-

Several hours later, the moon lit the silent landscape as we returned to the small cabin. We had found a small herd of caribou wandering not far from where Edward had heard the woman. Not only did we catch her scent, but also that of two others, interwoven. Based on the concentration of their scents, all three had been in the area earlier this day. I shuddered slightly to think of my son coming upon three unknown vampires alone and resolved that we should not part until we knew the danger or were out of the area.

Catching my pensive mood, Esme reached for my hand and we ran back to the cabin side-by-side.

"Don't worry, Carlisle," she said, her soft eyes shining golden even in the darkness. "We've only found evidence that they are like us, not like the others." Her excitement was palpable in her voice.

I would not allow myself to hope after so little time. It is true we only found remains of a few caribou, drained, to indicate their hunting preferences. It was Edward's idea to leave our own kills, permeated without scent, out in the open to spur their attention. I would not allow myself to hope there were others like us. If there were, how could I not have found them after all this time?

Centuries I had lived and never heard of others that felt as I did about human life. Was it possible there were others who understood the precious value each life could hold? I suppressed the thought in my head. Until I knew their intent, I would not allow myself to hope.

As we entered the cabin, we settled into place to wait, Esme reclining on the couch and Edward wearing a path as he paced the short length of the cabin. I lit a fire, enjoying the glow of the golden light on my wife and son's faces. Attempting to relax, I sat by Esme, taking comfort in her soft form.

Edward's pacing increased my apprehension. I considered all the things that could go wrong. What if there were more than three? What if they resented our intrusion? I had seen just a small fraction of violence our kind could do against their own and suddenly grew anxious at my son and wife in danger. Was I gambling with their safety?

"Chess?" Edward's voice interrupted my fear-filled thoughts. The smallest smile touched his lips as he thought of a way to absorb me that drew my thoughts away from my fear. Memories of so many games of chess in the past, my way of distracting him from his hunger, from the voices invading his head came to mind.

"Of course," I smiled at him.

Four hours and thirteen games later I had yet to win against my son. Sighing as he moved his rook into checkmate, I remarked wryly, "One might think your talents were helping you in this game."

Smiling slightly back at me, he knocked over my king. "Again?"

"I don't think my ego could take another such defeat" I smiled back at him, noting that despite his apparent ease, the quirk of his lips did not touch his eyes, where anxiety lurked. Why hadn't they made a move yet?

He replied to my unspoken observations. "It seems like we are making it too easy for them. What if there are more and they decide to destroy us?"

I pondered his comments. The fear that had lurked rose again to the surface. Was I putting my family in danger?

"You should teach us to fight," Edward said fiercely, surprising me. I could not teach my family to fight! I had little enough experience as it was, and would do anything that I could to keep my family out of the vicious world that so many of our kind inhabited.

"What?" Esme looked back from the window where she had been gazing into the velvet night. "Why should we learn to fight Edward?"

My gentle wife. It went against everything in her nature, save her thirst for life, to hunt animals. The accidental deaths she had caused of the few humans that had tempted her thirst in her first years of this new life still haunted her. The idea that she would have to defend herself and maybe even take the offensive against others of our kind would, of course, be abhorrent to her.

"It should never have to come to that, son" I replied, trying to alleviate some of Esme's rising stress. She moved to me for comfort.

"If they did become hostile, what could we do?" Edward appealed to me, fervor in his eyes. "Would you be so willing to put Esme and I in harm's way?"

"Edward," I cautioned, chastising him gently. "Do you think I would ever willingly put you and Esme in a situation where you were facing danger?" He bent his head slightly, chastened.

Even so, I understood Edward's point. Perhaps it was time to start teaching him how to defend himself against potential foes. After all, I would need to prepare him for the world. He might not choose to stay with us...

I glanced up at Edward's quick intake of breath and saw the pain in his eyes. I quickly cut off the thought. "I'm sorry son," I replied quickly, regretting saying something that brought back such painful memories of the past few years. "It was just an errant thought and I apologize. You have given me no reason to suspect you would renege on your promise."

He straightened, nodding slightly, but the strained look did not fall from his face.

"I will teach you what I know if you wish," I replied. "You are correct that there are others in our world who would do us harm, and there is no reason we should be unprepared for them."

"Carlisle, is that really necessary?" Esme looked up at me, her voice tight with apprehension.

"Edward is right, my love" I said softly to her, stroking her face. "I cannot have you be unprepared for all that is out there. I would not want you to be vulnerable when my life depends on your safety."

My hand against her smooth cheek had a different effect than intended. Fear melted off her face as her eyes darkened in desire. My gaze into her eyes deepened as I felt my own body react, my mind already turning to a continuation of my hand's path down her body.

Edward cleared his throat subtly, breaking our locked eyes. Embarrassed to be caught in such thoughts, we broke away from each other.

"Oops!" Esme said, giggling slightly. She moved slightly away from me, reluctant to be caught again by her body's desires.

"Another game?" I proposed. Edward scowled in response, though his lips rose slightly in amusement at our actions and attempts to distract ourselves and him.

"Sure," he said resignedly. "Why don't I..." he broke off, looking off to his left.

"What son?" I replied, though I knew what he would say before the words touched his lips.

"They are coming," he looked back at me, his eyes unreadable for the emotions swirling in them. "All _five_ of them."


	6. 6: Discernment

**Chapter 6: Discernment**  
><em>July 1932<em>

_Carlisle_  
>Steeling myself, I grasped Esme's hand and moved out into the night.<p>

"From which direction are they coming, son?" I asked him, knowing he was attuned to their every movement.

"They are coming slowly from the Northwest," Edward replied. "We can meet them in the open meadow about half a mile from here."

"Show us the way" I replied calmly. Silently we ran through the wilderness, skimming over the perpetually frozen ground and layers of pine needles while small animals quivered to hear us pass. Reaching the meadow in just a few seconds I stayed in place, listening to the now clear sound of lithe feet hitting the ground. The weak moonlight shone through a cloud, leaving the landscape bright and crisp to our advanced eyesight.

Edward and Esme positioned themselves on either side of me. I released Esme's hand to stand just in front of them, ready to face any danger as the leader of my family. Five would be a difficult number to overcome, but I reassured myself that I had no reason to think they were violent. At least, I hoped that with all of my being. In my time with the Volturi, I had seen a number of our kind brought before the three, and killed just as quickly, for having unreasonable attitudes toward violence and conquest. The wars that had been happening in the south, bloody massacres of epic proportions, were a testament to that.

"Carlisle," Edward said softly, pulling me back to myself.

A gust of wind across the clearing brought with it our first knowledge of the strangers. Five distinct scents: lavender, bay leaf, and evergreen distinct from those that surrounded us in the wilderness. One of the members had a distinct spiciness that hinted at a male among the other female scents. We heard them slow their pace, five light foot falls slowing to an almost human pace.

Tension radiated off of Edward and I forced myself not to allow my body to react to his sense of fear and apprehension, but instead breathed deeply and stood up straight, holding Esme's hand in mine. Knowing they were within earshot of my spoken voice, I glanced over at Edward, thinking the question in my mind. Would their numbers pose a problem to us? Should we prepare for hostility?

He shook his head slightly, "They do not seem aggressive," he mumbled softly, his voice tight. "Only curious."

I relaxed slightly, trusting my son's assessment, though I noted his own posture did not shift. I turned back to face the direction of their approach.

A few seconds later, I made out their shapes through the forest. Three women with faintly Slavic features and variations on blonde hair grouped together, one placing herself slightly before the others. Slightly removed from the other two a clearly mated pair with strongly Mediterranean looks walked close together, the man positioning himself just in front of the woman. Their clothes were well kept, not showing any sign of the wear that I had come to expect in meeting nomads in my travels. It was not their looks that captured my attention, however. Every one of them had bright amber eyes.

As they stopped at the other side of the clearing, they took the opportunity to examine us, curiosity and surprise evident on all their faces as they took in our stances, looks and noted our eyes. Still, they kept their distance, and I could feel a touch of protective wariness that came with meeting any of our kind. As the silence lengthened, I felt it was time to assert ourselves.

"Hello," I said, breaking the silence. Five pairs of eyes snapped to mine. "Please allow me to introduce our family. I am Carlisle, my wife Esme, and our son Edward."

"I am Tanya," said the female leader who stood slightly in front of the others with the slightest Eastern European accent. "My sisters, Irina and Katrina," she gestured to the two women standing behind her, her eyes never leaving my face. The smallest one, Katrina, frowned slightly at her introduction, I noted.

"And these are our adopted family, Eleazar and Carmen," Tanya continued. The woman with dark features, Carmen, bowed her head slightly at the introduction, but the male was not even looking at me. His eyes were fixed on Edward.

Suddenly, I heard a sharp intake of breath from Edward. Confused, I turned to look at him, noting that the three women had taken a step back and were looking now to the man, who had not changed his stance.  
>"Do not alarm yourselves, sisters," Eleazar said soothingly, his voice lilting with a subtle Spanish accent. "Edward and I were just coming to an understanding."<p>

I turned to Edward, puzzled by this comment. Could Eleazar be a mind reader as well?

"No, Carlisle," Edward replied, a hint of satisfaction creeping into his voice that astonished me. "There is no problem. Eleazar has the unique ability to understand the special…traits…that others of our kind possess."

"And Edward is a mind reader," Eleazar continued, explaining to his companions. "He understood as soon as I started evaluating him, so I spoke to him directly."

I looked back at Eleazar, fascinated by his ability and astonished by his composure. Despite sensing my son's ability, he was not reacting defensively, but rather more interested in us.

Tanya, on the other hand, did not look convinced. "A mind reader?" she asked Eleazar, looking at Edward with suspicion.

"Yes, and quite a powerful one, from what I can tell," Eleazar responded. "It seems he does not need touch to understand thoughts. Is that correct?" He asked Edward directly.

After a glance at me, Edward turned back to Eleazar and nodded slightly.

"Fascinating," Eleazar said quietly.

"So you can hear every thought we are thinking right now?" Katrina asked, her face filled with wonderment and interest. She took a slight step forward but Tanya's hand shot out to stop her progress.

"Katrina!" Tanya said sharply, caution and fear intermingled in her voice. Both she and the other female, Irina, looked even more wary with the revelation of Edward's ability.

Katrina expression turned to one of frustration and glared back at Tanya. "Kate!" she retorted.

Tanya's expression softened slightly, her mouth quirking at the edges. "Kate then," she replied, her stance relaxing. "We do not want to ply Edward with questions." Her voice cautioned Katrina or Kate, to not give too much away, as well as to instruct politeness. It seemed a well-worn relationship.

"Why don't we start again," I suggested, finally stepping back into conversation from where I had been silenced by fascination.

"My apologies for being so forward in my comments," Eleazar bowed his head slightly to me and to Edward.

"No apology necessary" Edward responded, a smile playing around his lips. Very little surprised him, and I could tell that Eleazar's abilities were of great interest to him.

"Wonderful," I said calmly, satisfied to have a congenial atmosphere again and anxious to learn more about them. "Edward's abilities serve as an ideal starting point, as that is how we first noted others of our kind in the area. I believe he was out earlier XXXXXX (a few days, hours) ago, and saw one of you hunting. He was most surprised to see that you take the lives of animals as prey. Is this always the case?"

"Yes," Tanya responded, more at ease now that we were in more solid, known territory. "My sisters and I have not fed on the blood of humans for over three hundred years." She paused, a smile at an internal joke playing on her face as well as those of her sisters. "Carmen and Eleazar were later additions to our family, but have also adopted this life style. We have never met any others like us, however, though I will admit we have sought to keep it that way."

"I had not heard of any others with the same lifestyle, so it seems your concealment has been well kept." I smiled in amazement. "I must admit myself to be shocked and exceedingly skeptical when Edward told me of his suspicions."

"We have done our utmost to remain out of the eyes of those who might seek us." The third sister, the one who had not yet spoken, said quietly. I heard the subtle reproach in her words.

"We do apologize for interrupting your solitude," I hastened to reply. "We would never dream of encroaching upon your territory or of telling others of our kind of your family, if you would prefer." I could certainly understand their willingness to stay out of the spotlight. Many feared the intervention of the Volturi, and, as I had experienced during my time with the brothers, they certainly viewed my style of living, one shared by the sisters, as necessary for study and observation. Over time, Aro's scrutiny, and attempts to persuade me away from my abstinence from human blood, became wearing. It was only through friendship and his appreciation of my moral fortitude that I was allowed to leave their company without incident.

"Irina, please," Tanya's tone gently rebuked her sister before she turned back to me. "We are, of course, happy to make your acquaintance and learn more about your family. We cannot be too careful when it comes to others of our kind, but would love to learn more about how you came to this decision." Tension gone from her body, she assessed us thoughtfully before continuing. "Please give my family and me a moment."

They quickly gathered together in a circle, conferring quietly. I glanced at Edward, who was carefully following their conversation but nodded slightly at me to show there was no danger. I then turned to Esme who stepped forward to take my hand, excitement and fascination on her face. The prospect of others like our family intrigued and excited her. I gently touched her face. She had been with only Edward and me for so long. Too long. She needed others to share her zest for life and compassion of others in our lifestyle.

Edward cleared his throat slightly to snap me out of my reverie.

Tanya turned to us, smiling. "My family and I would love to welcome you to our home. We maintain a permanent residence a short run from here, and would be happy to provide you with its limited comforts, and provide a space for us to speak further. Never have we met others who live the same lifestyle, and it is not an acquaintance we are readily able to give up."

I looked at my son who nodded his assent, as well as my wife's shining smile. "We are happy to accept. Please, lead the way."

The sun was just beginning to make its rise through the solid glass windows that overlooked the mountains and wilderness below the sister's high perch. Their beautiful and expansive home had provided a perfect location for us to delve into conversation, and what a fascinating one it had been.

In one corner, Edward and Eleazar stood, deep in discussion about their experiences and relative abilities. Edward was fascinated by the older vampire's memories, especially those of the many different abilities he had seen during his time as part of the Volturi guard. He maintained deep respect for the need for a ruling class, but knew he would never have been allowed to stay with Carmen while in his line of work.

Esme had attached immediately to Carmen and Irina after learning that the house had been designed by Irina. The structure of the house was very much influenced by the sisters' Eastern European heritage, bringing to mind a Russian hunting lodge or a grander version of a traditional Romanian cottage from the Carpathian Mountains. Irina in turn was eager to learn more about Esme's formal architectural training. The art on the walls, however, reflected a completely divergent, though complementary tone, with bold Spanish themes and rich, vibrant colors that had come from Carmen's own hand. They were strolling through the expansive house while Esme delighted in learning about the history behind the carved moldings on the walls, and rich textural details of the canvases. Every so often, Carmen's throaty laugh emerged from the corner as Esme and Irina got into passionate debates on the traits of different favorite architects and designers.

I had been similarly wrapped up in conversation with Tanya and Kate, trading stories about our respective history and travels. We learned that their road had not been an easy one. They had been forthright about their painful experience of losing their beloved mother after she violated the law of our kind in pursuit of her desperate desire for a child. Her creation of an immortal child had been unknown to the sisters, and thus her punishment all the more unexpected and painful when the Volturi revealed the betrayal. Esme sobbed in sympathy to hear of the child being burned in her mother's arms while Tanya, Irina, and Kate looked on, shocked and helpless. Even after such a traumatic event, however, they stayed together, eventually coming to this lifestyle after years of a more traditional diet of our kind.

Their decision to constrain themselves by only tasting animal blood was an absorbing rationale. After centuries of feeding only on humans, to allow more carnal appetites preempt their need for blood was one that truly intrigued me, though discussion of their decision made Edward exceedingly uncomfortable. Similarly, my early revelation of the ability we had to abstain from human blood, especially during the early years when my thirst was so strong, and my continued abstinence in the face of constant temptation in the medical practice setting was intriguing to them.

Eleazar had similarly told his story of departure with Carmen, a would-be victim of the Volturi who was saved through his intervention. Their need for a life apart coincided with meeting the sisters, and learning to adopt a vastly different, but more peaceful life.

Now, as dawn wove tendrils of pink and purple through the clouds, and the barren white landscape began to incrementally move to lighter shades of grey through the massive wall of windows at the front of their home, we were starting to become comfortable with each other. Though clear that Tanya was the leader of the family, each member of their family had an equal share, a truly harmonious relationship that seamlessly extended to envelop Esme, Edward, and me.

Edward's carefree laugh rang out, responding to a sly comment from Eleazar. My eyes found Esme's, the shock I felt mirrored on her face. I remembered back to the last time he has sounded that carefree, playing a Christmas song for Esme and me so many years ago. Before he left. Before he returned to us. Perhaps this is what we had been missing. In trying so hard to help him alleviate his guilt and again take joy in life, maybe he really just needed companionship beyond what Esme and I could provide.

"I'm sure you are exaggerating," Edward chuckled, eyebrows raised in skepticism. He glanced back at me, acknowledging my thoughts but his look gave them no credence.

"Try her if you don't believe me," Eleazar responded heartily, smirking at the younger man. "I have never had the desire to ask her myself, though her sisters assure me it is quite potent."

"You wouldn't happen to be talking about me, would you?" Said Kate saucily, standing and gliding over to Edward and Eleazar. "You know it is impolite to speak of a lady without including her in the conversation."

"Edward was just expressing disbelief about the power of your gift," Eleazar said, sharing a conspiratorial look with his sister.

"I have no doubt about its existence" Edward responded, bowing slightly at Kate. "It simply seems as though Eleazar must have exaggerated its potency."

"Well, it's true that Eleazar has never asked me to show him personally," Kate said seriously, her eyes betraying a glint of excitement. "So, it certainly may not impact everyone quite the same." She broke into a smile as she extended her hands to Edward.

"Katrina," Tanya growled softly, warning laced in her voice.

"He _asked_," Kate replied simply.

"Yes, however this may not be the best way to secure a friendship," Irina completed, smiling quickly at Esme before looking pointedly back at her sister.

"I'm not sure I understand," Esme spoke up, confused by the interchange.

"Eleazar tells me that Kate's power is an active one," Edward said, curiosity evident in his voice. He had never met another of our kind that had an active ability, and I could tell from his stance and the excitement in his eyes that discovering a family with two intrigued him greatly. "He tells me that Kate's is an offensive ability, conducted by her skin."

"Edward," Esme said beseechingly. She so hated to see Edward come to any harm.

"Mother, please don't alarm yourself," Edward said softly. "I am simply curious and take full responsibility for any outcome, though since she hasn't had any practice in quite a while, I wonder if it still works."

"Well, alright then!" Kate replied buoyantly, extending her hands.

"Outside!" Irina said sharply, glancing with concern at her handcrafted furniture.

Kate smiled devilishly before moving toward the door with Edward close beyond.

Esme still seemed concerned, turning to me beseechingly.

"Come, my dear," I took her hand as she moved to me. "It is Edward's choice." I too was curious about this new power, and torn between my interest in seeing its effects and protecting my son. However, I reasoned, if anyone could know the potential dangers he faced prior to any action, it was Edward.

We moved as a group into dawn's light and spread out naturally, with Carmen close Eleazar, Irina and Tanya standing just behind Kate, and Esme and I near Edward.

"Now don't hold back," Edward said, extending his hands to Kate.

"Oh, I won't," she muttered, slowly bringing her hands to meet his.

Almost the instant their skin touched, Edward's knees buckled and he fainted, body sagging to the ground. Alarmed I rushed to my son, catching him before he hit the ground. As I caught him, however, he was already reviving.

"That was truly fascinating!" Edward said, blinking a few times. I checked his breathing, pupil dilation, going through the procedural checklist in my mind. Esme clutched my shoulder in fear.

"No, I'm truly fine father," Edward said, lifting himself up. "I asked her and she complied, but I have never felt such a strong shock. It seemed as though electricity was coursing through me!"

Kate smiled. "Do not worry yourself," she said, looking earnestly at Esme. "I would never harm someone who did not directly threaten me or my family."

"And since you are unique to others we have met in sharing our lifestyle, you are nearly family already" Tanya approached, smiling at us as she took her sister's hand. "We have so much to learn from each other. My sisters and, as well as our dearest friends, Eleazar and Carmen, invite you to stay with us."

"Yes, please," Carmen said smoothly, the hint of a Spanish accent coloring her words. "We have loved spending time with you and invite you to be part of our family."

"For as long as you like," Irina finished.

I looked to my family to gauge their opinions. My wife, excited by the prospect of the female companionship she had so long been denied. My son, finally among new thoughts, ideas, and experiences. Both looked eager to learn more. And I could hardly discount my own excitement about the prospect of learning about others of our kind who shared our beliefs, after so many years of loneliness. I could not deny I was thrilled to spend more time with these strangers who, with each passing moment, were feeling more like family, I turned to the five.

"Thank you for all your kind hospitality and for welcoming us to your land and your home. We accept happily, and will stay as long as we can."

_Author's Note: My apologies for the long delay between chapters. As I warned, my engagement in writing waxes and wanes. I hope you enjoyed my perspective on the meeting. I always try to stay true to the characters, but all the original ideas for characters do not belong to me. I also want to thank EliseShaw again for inspiring my own story, which I have tried to make my own building on her foundation._

_Stay tuned for Rosalie, coming up soon! I am also considering a companion piece examining Rosalie's transformation, so keep a look out! I'd love reviews as well. I would write either way, but it's always nice to know someone is out there reading!  
><em>


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